Silent Curses
by Ravenclaw.princess15
Summary: What if, in fourth year, Hermione found out Barty Crouch Jr's secret? When she stumbles upon Moody using polyjuice potion in a dark corridor, he curses her to keep his secret - under penalty of death. Unable to warn anyone without sacrificing not only her life, but that of whomever means the most to her, can Hermione stop Voldemort from ever rising to power?
1. Chapter 1

"Merlin's saggy left tes-"

"Frederick Weasley, don't you dare finish that sentence. Imagine if your mother heard you!" Hermione exclaimed, outraged. Fred and George sat on a small sofa in the corner of the common room, wearing their homemade jumpers. Hermione sat with her legs crossed on the floor facing them, a book - she was reading _Hogwarts: A History_ for the seventh time - in her lap, as always.

"For your information Granger, Mum has heard me swear exactly three times. Once when I was eight and Charlie dared me to. I had no idea what it meant," Fred said with a grimace. Hermione raised an eyebrow at this, sceptical of the idea that Fred was ever innocent.

"Once when Ron hit a bludger right into his tenders," George chimed in, nudging Fred's shoulder with his and chuckling.

"Bloody Git. If I can't have kids I blame him," Fred muttered, scowling at Ron, who sat obliviously across the room with Harry, Dean and Seamus. "And finally when one of our pranks backfired and I ended up with my legs stuck together. Godric, do you remember that, George? I had to hop everywhere for days."

"That was genius Fred," he chirped, changing his tone when he saw Hermione's confusion. "Of course I mean the idea was genius. The potion itself just needed a bit of tweaking."

"But each time Mum didn't mind me swearing, because it was completely and one hundred percent justified or not my fault. You know me, Granger, I am a genuine gentleman… oh, don't give me that look," he said with false dismay at Hermione's returning sceptical look. "I only swear when it is absolutely necessary, and this my dear lady, is completely justified."

"And what, dare I ask, warrants this language?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. She closed her book and placed it gently on the floor next to her, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"That's a very good question, Freddy. What is wrong? I mean, I'm all for saggy left-"

"George!" Hermione hissed.

"Saggy left _ears_ , I was going to say _ears_ , Hermione! But what is wrong Freddy?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

Fred buried his face in his hands, sighing quietly. He rubbed his eyes wearily for a moment, then ran a hand through his flaming hair. He didn't look at his twin or Hermione, rather focusing on the fire that crackled in the corner of the room. The distant light flickered in his eyes, dancing on the surface.

"I just… I'm worried about the _thing_ ," he said meaningfully, looking at George.

"Thing?" George replied, bewildered. For a second he stared at Fred, a look of complete confusion on his face. Fred raised his eyebrows and leaned in slightly as Hermione watched, almost as perplexed as George was, witnessing the silent conversation that only the twins could have. The boys would often break off conversations midway through, staring deep into each others eyes to communicate. Eventually one would shake their head or move their eyebrows, but they seemed to have full discussions without using any words. Hermione had been so fascinated by this that she tried to find if there was any evidence of magic enhancing telepathy between twins, but - alas - found nothing. "Oh," George finished, the conversation completed.

"What?" Hermione sounded irritated, but didn't care much, as she hated the exclusion she felt from this conversation. This wasn't the first time in the past week she had been excluded from a friendship. Ron wasn't talking to her because of an argument the previous week about an essay he asked her to write but she had refused to do. This meant that Harry hardly spoke to her, too, as he was always with Ron. Of course, he made conversation whenever possible, but Harry had to choose one of them to talk to more. Ron was his best friend. Hermione understood… she really did.

"Oh, nothing," Fred sighed, faking a smile, and diverted his attention towards Hermione..

"Come on guys," she groaned. "I'm going out of my mind. I haven't had a real conversation with anyone in a week… you can trust me."

"Sorry Hermione," Fred said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"We wish we could tell you," George carried on. "We really do. But this is serious… and under control."

Hermione sighed and raised an eyebrow. The twins, in serious trouble? What could it be? Knowing these two it could range from anything such as detention to accidently assassinating the Minister of Magic. It was not uncommon for explosions to be heard in their room at The Burrow, and Hermione was aware that they frequently used secret passages within the school. The twins did daring things, but dangerous? Hermione was about to open her mouth to offer help when Ron could be heard across the common room.

"Thanks again, Lavender!" He exclaimed, a little too loudly. "Your essay was great, and really looked like my hand-writing!"

Hermione bit her lip and struggled to not turn around and look at the big group of fourth years. Why did he even ask Lavender? As if she knew what she was writing about! Hermione stopped at this thought. Lavender was an intelligent girl - annoying, a complete show off, but intelligent. Why would Hermione even think something like that? As if she cared who wrote Ron's essay; so long as it wasn't her, it didn't matter.

"That's okay, Ron," in a sickly sweet voice.

"Some people wouldn't do that for me, you know," he drawled, his voice growing louder. "But then again, not everyone's as nice as you."

Hermione suddenly felt very warm. Her chest tightened and her mind clouded. "Excuse me," she mumbled, standing up from the sofa. The twins watched her for a moment then began whispering between themselves. Hermione began to walk out of the common room, squeezing past a group of second years who played exploding snap on the floor in the middle of the room. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears, her cheeks growing hotter by the second. She rushed out of the portrait door sucking in deep, cool breaths. The cold air of the castle was soothing, and as the door close the last few laughs of Ron and Harry could be heard.

Hermione wanted to go back in. She should be with Ron and Harry, laughing with them. She should not out in the dark corridor alone. But why did she have to bribe them, after all these years, to be her friend? Why must she write their essays in exchange for friendship?

Hermione paused. It wasn't Harry; it wasn't both of them. She helped Harry, of course, but she helped half the year with homework. No, it was Ron. He didn't even try… he just wanted her to write the whole thing. But then again, she supposed, she always did. Perhaps if she went back in, apologised, explained that she wouldn't write his essays, but missed him, wanted to be friends again…

Yes, she would. She would swallow her pride for the sake of friendship. Hermione breathed in her last gasps of cold air, closing her eyes. She was ready to go back in there and salvage this friendship, even if it meant apologising when she had clearly done nothing wrong.

Hermione opened her eyes, threw back her shoulders, and turned towards the portrait door. She had to do this. As she grew closer she opened her mouth, began to say "Fickle Fizzles" - the password for that week that Neville had forgotten twice already - when she heard muttering behind her.

"9 more months," it breathed. "9 more months, then he's back. He's back, he's back, he's back, he's-" the voice repeated, hysterical. Hermione turned and looked for who the voice belonged to, but saw no one.

"Hello?" She called. The voice abruptly stopped, but scuffling could be heard around the brick wall a few steps away. Who could it be? Hermione approached the voice, her Gryffindor bravery perhaps making her stupid.

She rounded the corner to see Professor Moody with his back to her, hunched over something, trembling.

"Professor?" She asked, a cold feeling growing in her chest. Something was wrong, she could just feel it; was he hurt? The portrait door was mere steps away, and yet it seemed so far. She couldn't hear anyone in there… if she screamed, would they hear her? No. She was being stupid; he was a professor. Sure, he'd used all three unforgivable curses, but that was for education… wasn't it?

"Granger?" Moody's voice garbled, his back still facing her. As he convulsed he lifted his familiar flask that accompanied him everywhere to his lips, taking an unusually large gulp. "What're you doing out'er your common room? It's late."

"I… I was just going back. Is everything okay, professor?"

Mad eye whipped round at this, facing Hermione. His face was… normal. Of course, he was inspecting her, but he always did. But Hermione couldn't fight the feeling that there was something off… what was wrong? Hermione felt uneasy at the sight of his face, every nerve in her body was screaming… run!

"Professor," Hermione stammered. As she was about to ask what was wrong, she realised herself, and her heart stopped. Ice ran through her veins… how had she not noticed? Moody had been in many fights, scarred from years of being an auror. He looked as if he had been carved from wood, chunks of his face missing. Above the eyebrow, a scar on the cheek, but most shockingly, a large portion of his nose was missing.

This man had scars. A nick on his ear, an eye missing, a chunk missing from above the eyebrow, a scar on his cheek, but… oh, it was so obvious now! His nose was whole, unscathed, and definitely not Professor Moody's. As she watched, however, it began to shift and change as if it were losing a chunk.

Hermione began to walk backwards. Whoever this was, it wasn't Professor Moody! He was an imposter! A fake! But was he a dark wizard? Whoever he was, he was not Alastor Moody.

"Granger," the man grunted, aware that the brightest witch of her age knew his secret. He began to step forward with the great fake leg, reach out for her, his eyes menacing. Suddenly, however, his arm knocked the familiar flask he had gulped from moments ago out of his pocket. As the flask fell, clattering on the ground, Hermione froze. The contents spilled out. A yellowish, putrid slime oozed out, unmistakable and familiar to the young girl who had brewed it only two years prior.

Polyjuice potion.

Hermione stared at it for an eternal moment, shock filling her system. Everything in the world began to slow as she realised she was in great danger - until she had seen the potion she had held out hope that she was being ridiculous. But no, the evidence was leaking out of the flask on the floor, the DNA of the real Alastor Moody staining the pristine bricks on the floor. Suddenly her senses rushed back to her - her brain catching up with her body - and she fumbled for her wand in her back pocket, but this man was quicker on the draw.

"Silentium Pretium!" He hissed, purple light flying at Hermione. She gasped, for this was all she could do, and then let out half a second of a scream; a piercing, powerful scream. After this half second, however, she was silenced. The strange sensation of something invisible wrapping around her neck halted her, taking the air from her lungs. A short moment later she was gone, her vision consumed in darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

"Look, I think we could trust her," Fred stated, looking earnestly into his twin's eyes. The fire continued to crackle from across the room. The pair were discussing the deceit they had faced as a result of a bet placed at the Quidditch World Cup. The odds had been incredibly slim, but the twins had taken the bet anyway, placing all of their life earnings on Ireland winning despite Viktor Krum catching the Snitch. When this prediction rang true the pair rejoiced, but their glee quickly turned to dismay when Ludo Bagman, the man who held their money, refused to hold up the bet.

"And this is nothing to do with your massive crush on her?" George asked under his breath.

"Shut up you git," Fred replied. "If it was just that I probably wouldn't tell her about it… this whole con makes us look stupid. I can't believe we fell for it!"

"I know Freddy. If I ever get my hands on him… but I can't. He's an adult… a ministry official at that. We made that bet fair and square… it's just a shame that he didn't follow through."

"But Georgie, she could help!" Fred whined, desperate to make his twin understand. Hermione was the brightest witch of their age… she probably knew some law that could get the back their money, or a spell that could make him pay them, or…

"Where is Granger, anyway?" George asked, looking over his shoulder. Fred turned, too, to see that Hermione had still not entered the common room again after running out, close to tears. In the common room younger wizards sat on the floor playing exploding snap, whilst a couple sat curled up in the other corner of the room sharing one chair, pecking at each other's cheeks. The sight made Fred cringe. The only other people were Ron, Harry Seamus, Dean and Lavender… but no Hermione.

"How long has she been gone?" Fred asked, trying not to panic. He was being ridiculous; this was Hogwarts, the safest place on Earth. The worst that could happen is that she'd fall asleep in the library, her head on tear stained pages. But still, Fred hated that idea… Hermione was far too isolated these days for his liking. She was so kind and generous to all of her friends, but when it came to her they never returned the favour…

"C'mon Ron, she always writes your essays. It was only once and-" Harry could be heard across the common room as Fred stood up, trying to defend Hermione.

"I don't care!" Ron said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "That's what friends do, help each other! She's so selfish, no wonder we're her only friends!"

"Oh shut up you slimy git," Fred snapped, glaring at Ron, who was stricken. "She does so much for you. Maybe you should use your brain before you speak."

Ron was stricken, looking at his older brother with wide eyes, confused. Fred was so lighthearted and humourous that when he lost his temper it was like a balloon had just popped in your face. Something colourful and fun suddenly breaking, scaring many of those in the area, popping with surprising force. So Ron sat in his chair, bewildered and a little scared. The balloon had not only popped but exploded, as evident in Fred's menacing glare and flushed cheeks. "What? Why do you care?"

"You know, she's so nice to you. Do you ever think before you speak? Oh, I suppose you do, but you only think about yourself. You absolute bloody-"

"Alright Fred, that's enough," George said, putting a hand on his twin's shoulder. Identical eye looked into identical eye as every other one in the room was on them. Fred backed down, swallowing. "Wait by the door and I'll help you find her."

Fred turned and sulked over to the door, looking people defiantly in the eye as he passed the small crowd of wizards.

"Bloody hell, he's a nutter," he heard Ron mutter, and with a mixture of triumph and irritation he realised that Ron sounded much more confident now he was across the room. If he wasn't so worried he would laugh at Ron's blubbering nonsense, not fooling anyone.

"Ronniekins, I saved you this time… don't think I'll do it again. He has a point, you know," Fred heard George say coldly. The familiar warmth that George brought to his chest grew, spreading into his arms like warm honey. Footsteps padded over to Fred as conversation began to rise again, the show over. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well, she's probably crying her eyes out in the corridor, so-"

"Oh," George said with a grin, winking. "I get ya. You go out there and be the shoulder she so desperately needs."

"Shut up," Fred said, his ears growing warm. He swallowed and shrugged, not meeting his twin's eye. "No, you come out with me and we just… make her happy again."

"And how will we do that? I mean, I'm open to things, but we need a safe word and... Okay, okay! Joking!" George exclaimed as Fred reached for his wand. Before he could say anything else George exclaimed, "Let's go!"

With a clap on his twin's shoulder he walked past Fred and out of the portrait door into the cold, dark corridor. The portrait swung shut behind them as they scanned the corridor for a small fourth year in a puddle of tear, seeing nothing either way.

"Granger!" George called quietly, not wanting to be caught out of their dorms at this time of night by Filch… again.

"Hermione?" Fred called softly. He took a tender step forward and George followed, unable to see the poor witch anywhere. He turned to George, concerned. "Can you hear her?"

"No," George breathed, still looking around, trying to will the witch into existence.

As the pair rounded the corner and Fred's eyes fell upon the sight in front of him his breath caught in his chest; his mind went blank. This was not what he expected to see. What should he do? Was this real?

On the floor lay a small, crumpled body with giant, messy hair, spread out on the cold tiles. On her back, hand centimeters from the wand that had fallen to the floor beside her, Hermione was there, still and silent.

"'Mione!" Fred gasped, running to her and falling to the ground next to her frail body. He hesitated for a moment before cupping the back of her head with his hand. Was she breathing? How could he tell? What should he do if she wasn't? What if she was… No.

George stood for a second in shock then stumbled back, racing to the portrait. He called for help but Fred couldn't hear exactly what he said; his mind too focused on the unmoving body he held. She was small… probably about 5"3, her body surprisingly light without the weight of her books. He'd imagined holding her a hundred times since he fell for her, but this was not the circumstances he'd dreamt of. Now he was filled with the memory of when he first knew he liked her; in third year Harry was clearly feeling upset about something that was too important to discuss openly. Whilst some avoided him like the plague, Neville tried too hard. and Ron seemed to pretend nothing was wrong, Fred saw Hermione do something. She pulled a spare piece of parchment from her bag and folded it expertly into a small paper plane. She then mumbled a spell under her breath, causing it to really fly, targeting Ron. The plane would regularly fly around the common room, hitting Ron on the head each time it passed, but easily evading his attempts to catch it. Harry began to genuinely laugh, lighting up each time Ron yelled "Bugger off!" Hermione cackled, snorting and squealing as Ron tried to work out who was attacking him. When she saw Fred watching, she simply ceased laughing but gave him a dazzling smile, winking at him.

Fred wished she would light up now as she had done then.

"Godric, what happened?" Ron's voice said behind him, the last thing he had wanted to hear. Fred whipped around and glared at him, accusing eyes piercing Ron's.

"You're the reason she was out here in the first place! If it weren't for you she would be in there, safe, she wouldn't have been attacked!" He shouted, nodding to the common room.

"A-attacked?" Harry stammered, looking weak, his eyes fixated on Hermione.

"This isn't helping," George reprimanded, now composed. "Ron, run and get Madame Pomfrey. Say it's an emergency."

Ron glanced at Hermione's body again, a mixture of emotions on his face, then sprinted in the opposite direction.

"Harry, go back in and make sure everyone stays in the common room. If she was attacked - which I'm not saying did happen - the others need to stay in the tower, where it's safe," George said in a soft tone, trying to soothe Harry, who looked ready to pass out. He swiftly walked back into the common room, but did not break into a run.

When Harry was safely out of sight George dropped to his knees and placed a hand on his twin's. The warm contact was familiar but did not comfort Fred. George tried to catch Fred's gaze, but it was fixed firmly on Hermione.

"Freddy?" George asked in a quiet voice.

"Out of the way, Mr Weasleys!" Madame Pomfrey called, rushing down the corridor as Ron trailed behind her. Her hair was falling messily around her face, but she seemed alert and already in her zone. George stepped back immediately, but Fred remained in place, reluctant to leave her. "Quickly, Mr Weasley."

Fred hesitated, but after a second carefully stepped away from Hermione and picked up her wand, standing shoulder to shoulder with George.

"Levicorpus," Madame Pomfrey chanted, causing Hermione to float at about waist height on Madame Pomfrey. "Boys, go back to your common room. Stay there until Professor Mcgonagall comes to see you."

With that she took Hermione's arm and disappeared, taking the young witch with her.

"Fat chance," Fred retorted, breaking into a run, George and Ron close on his heels. His heart pounded in his ears and his lungs felt ready to collapse, but nothing would stop him from getting to the hospital wing.


End file.
